It amazed Harry as to what a difference in perception there is when he stood up, sat down or moved about. The world was never still, he noted. Not even at night, when wizards and witches alike were asleep. Magic would come out to play, recharging itself as it frolicked about in the moonlight. He could see it breezing about the Black Lake, he could see it rustling the leaves of the Whomping Willow playfully. Magic was calming, and it brought out the life in him.

The only other instance in which he saw Magic was when Severus touched him. Each caress, each thrust was punctuated with sparkling Magic bursting from his beloved's chest. Every careless moan, every sultry growl from his lover's throat would never fail to arouse him to greater heights of passion. He remembered of the times when both of them were both panting heavily. Those half-lidded obsidian eyes would stare into his, the lust shining so clearly within. Harry would place his hand on Severus' chest, where his heart was and feel the Magic created by Love bursting onto his hand.

His lover was the only one to understand and enjoy his uniqueness. He could see the magic of the atmosphere, and he loved it. He loved it best when Severus' magic would sparkle when he was in his arms. He felt safe, as if the Magic would cocoon him in an impenetrable shield. No attackers would come forward, and he would be as right as rain.

He toed off his shoes and quietly slipped into bed. As always, an arm would snake around his waist and pull him closer to be spooned by Severus. He backed into the muscled chest and gave a soft purr. The chuckle coming only made him smile in response as he closed his eyes and gave himself up to the tendrils of sleep. All was at peace.

A/N: Done in the silence of the majestic night. Enjoy! :)